This is almost a standard Music Monday post, but with added whining. Fanfuckingtastic.
In the past week I've found myself in a place I haven't been in quite a few months. If I wasn't a registered, card-carrying infertile who doesn't have sex, I'd think I was pregnant considering how emotional I've been. Mornings have been difficult - I've felt hopeless and at a low point which I've been lucky enough to avoid for awhile. I don't want to speak to anyone, which proves to be a bit of a struggle when faced with an 8 hour work day, nor is The Dude very pleased by this. The only light in my day is P.
Only a couple of weeks ago I talked about how I relish my working days, as I need that time away from her. Apparently things change when you're in a bad place and I find myself needing to be around P all the time. I want to keep her close to me, and I have cried every morning when leaving her with my Mom. I have every confidence that she will be fine and have enormous amounts of fun, I just want to be with her. When thinking in ideal terms when trying to lift my spirits, the scenario I come up with is just P and me huddled together under a big, soft duvet all day, every day. Clearly, I'm a realist.
To add a further kick to the head, my iPod is missing. I had it going into my MIL's house today, but lost it in the short journey up the six steps leading into her house. Under ordinary circumstances I'd be disappointed, but get over it in 10 minutes. These things can be replaced. Under the new mood regime, this event sequestered me to my bedroom. For three hours. All this drama for such a middle-class, materialistic concern. I feel pathetic for even spending a moment lamenting its loss. I cried about it. Then I cried some more this evening because I feel like I've failed my Mom in this visit. I cried again because I failed P when I had nothing to make her for dinner, leaving the poor kid to eat a mixture of rice, tuna, and cheese. I cried five minutes ago watching a mum on TV talk about the pain her young daughter must go through due to a severe disability. I'm about to go to bed in a moment, and I will likely cry about setting the alarm for 7am.
I'm hoping this week will be better. I'm also enough of a realist to know it won't.
So, in honour of depressed miserabilists everywhere, I give you Morrissey, one of my very favourite performers. For the purist depressed miserabilists, I'm aware some of the songs are actually Smiths songs. Beat you to it.
Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now:
Irish Blood, English Heart:
Late Night, Maudlin Street:
Reel Around the Fountain: